


Unfinished Business

by calenhads



Category: Days Gone (Video Game)
Genre: Multi, idk what this is truly i'm so sorry, more original character establishing for my ogs, not a deacon/oc srry :(, platonic yes....romantic? no
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2020-05-12 20:37:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19236643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calenhads/pseuds/calenhads
Summary: "Thought you didn't harm unarmed women." "I don't. But, for you? I might make an exception"  — After Ami left the Drifter for dead months prior she couldn't have known she'd end up needing his help.





	Unfinished Business

**Author's Note:**

> More self indulgent trash from yours truly! This time for another one of my Days Gone OC's, Ami! Planning on it being a (4) part mini fic that establishes her own arc in the world. Not a Deacon/OC (sorry!). Kinda enemies with benefits though. Just not...THOSE kind of benefits. Anyway, God put me on this Earth to be annoying and I'll be DAMNED if I disappoint him, so, that's why I'm here!

“You little fuckers can wait your turn.”

Ami’s voice sounded small in comparison to the snarling and high-pitched whines from the Newts across the small creek. Some would say they were too close for comfort; though, Ami’s been closer. They were the least of Ami’s problems in the shit, only dangerous in small groups and moved as curious as children around her.

She kept her eyes trained on the little beasts as she loomed over the dead deer, its body already growing stiff. She’s lucky she even got to the kill before they did. Tracking the animal into settlement territory hadn’t been the best of her ideas, but, four days without food will make even the most seasoned survivalist make unwise decisions. She was no survivalist, only a _survivor_.

She knew cutting into the animal was going to be like ringing a dinner bell. The stench of fresh meat would travel far, even with the little breeze the wastes of Oregon had blessed them today, just cold enough to make her teeth chatter. 

_I should have sent Noah to do this._

The thought was short lived and amusing, a scoff escaping her scabbed lips as she wiped her scarred forehead with the back of her hand, feeling the raised and angry ‘R’ and ‘I’ that branded her skin still made her stomach turn. The ripper – well, _ex – ripper_ , probably wouldn’t even be able to find his own ass if she asked him. He was okay company, a _nearly_ welcome nuisance most days.

Shaking off the thought she returned her attention to her meal for the night at least; she had no way of carting all the meat back to their little camp a few miles away. Carrying the fresh cargo on foot was going to be dangerous enough as it was, she’d have to be fast and she’d have to be careful.

Her nose wrinkled as she finally dove in, struggling to remember what she had learned a million years ago it seemed. Watching the chef’s that worked for her family as a child was something she regularly did, out of morbid curiosity more than anything. More than once she had asked for a lesson, determined to learn as to what part of the animal to cut first, how it would feel to carve flesh and watch it fall and string off the bone.

The freaks across the creek howled as the stench hit them, the hair on the back of the woman’s neck stood on end at the sound. She had been listening to these fucks yell and scream for the better part of two years now, and yet, the sound still sunk into her bones and rattled her skull. Her cuts were jagged, sloppy, too fast, uneven; the chefs long ago would have hated it.

She tossed the ill cut piece of meat towards the congregation that was growing rowdier by the second. Before the meat even touched the group, they were upon it, tiny bodies flinging themselves into the air and landing on all fours to feast on the flesh, the fighting among them turning to hisses of warning towards one another.

“That should keep you busy.” She whispered to herself, annoyed as she turned her attention back to the animal. She snuck another glance at the group as her knife found the flesh again, cutting slowly. _Like kids in a candy store._

Her jaw clenched; the knife embedded in the stinking meat coming to a halt.

They weren’t children anymore; she had told herself that repeatedly in the months since everything in the world came to a screeching halt. They were freaks, beasts, bullies that prayed on the weak and moved in the unfair advantage of a unified pack. A hive mind.

She had only killed _one_.

One newt in two years. _One_. She didn’t to go out of her way for them. Sometimes, she thought the little animals had it just as bad as she did in the shit. On more than one occasion she had seen them chased off and slaughtered by the older beasts that littered the roads and caves and buildings of what used to be Oregon.

She found her bloodied and soiled hand moving towards the breast pocket of her jacket, it was a reflex now whenever she saw them. Her scarred fingers pressed themselves to the fabric, relief washing over her as she felt the piece of paper inside.

She hoped her daughter had a better fate.

A quick death, if that was what she was afforded.

_Focus, Ami._

Shaking off the thought, she returned to her work, knife moving methodically, depositing meat into the small cooler to the side of her. Thinking of the past was something she had been doing more often than not lately, and it wasn’t a welcome intrusion into her every day schedule.  

Nobody could forget the day the world ended, but she had tried. She had worked past the fear, the initial depression, the initial bout of finding survival useless. Whatever grief had been creeping into the bleeding edges of her mind turned to malice, the knife moving faster now.

She had survived against all the odds; survived when left for dead. Survived the Rippers. Survived with a price on her head from every angle of the state.

 

She hadn’t noticed just how far her mind had ran until she heard it; the undeniable sound of a motor. She paused, placing the meat in her hands in the cooler at her side. If it wasn’t for the newts hissing and cowering on their haunches, returning to the shack just behind them she could have thought it a trick of the mind.

Sheathing the boot knife, she slammed the cooler shut, cursing herself. She starred down at the gutted animal swallowing down the lump in her throat; all that hard work wasted. The meat would be spoiled in no time, swarmers or wolves would be drawn to it and by morning there would be nothing left, not even its bones.

Starvation wasn’t her concern now. It was that sound, it drew closer and for a moment her heart sunk, falling into the pit of her stomach, the blood in her veins seeming to freeze. It was distant, but too close all the same.

_Chester wouldn’t follow me this far North_.

Reasoning with herself was no use; he _would_ follow her this far North. For what she did to them, he would follow her to the ends of the earth if it meant he’d have her head.

A new kind of chill settled into her bones as the sound grew louder. It was too loud to be a motorcycle, the sound too great, too unified. The trees atop the hill had begun to sway as if a tunnel of wind had suddenly formed around it. She stood her ground for a moment longer, looking up towards the sky just as the looming, beastly mass of black and rotors descended from the sky.

For a moment Ami believed this was all a dream. A hallucination brought on from the lack of food or the berries and mushrooms Noah had brought back to camp earlier that day. She blinked once, twice, three times; each time closing her eyes a second or two longer. When she opened them, the chopper would be gone, the wind will have subsided, the yellow suits she caught a glimpse of over the hill will be a horde finally catching up with her.

Her eyes opened; they were _still_ there.

She found her legs then, kicking up dust as she retreated towards the shack, snatching the cooler and weapon up from the ground on the way. The newts atop the structure had all but forgotten about her, their screaming and shrieks now directed towards the sound that was bound to draw a bigger crowd soon.

Throwing herself inside she skirted around the nearest corner, a hand drawing the collar of her shirt up over her nose as she took in her new refuge, back flattened against the wall. At one point it had been a nest, she could smell that clear as day.

_This can’t be possible._

Ami moved towards the window, couching low, jaw clenched.

It _was_ them.

The urge to make herself known was overwhelming. From the looks of their outfit; hazmat suits, hired guns, military grade armor…NERO wasn’t there to save them.

She dug her nails into the pane of the shattered window, splinters prickling and entering the skin. Rage boiled in the deepest pit of her gut; jaw clenched so tight she swore she could feel the teeth cracking under the pressure. She squeezed her eyes shut. Two years ago, she had watched them deny hundreds of civilians, including herself, refuge. She had watched the cowards push and shove innocent and terrified women, men, and children out of their sights, guns pointed. Lethal force had been authorized; she remembers that _clearly_.

_They’re going to die anyway_ ; those are the words she remembered someone from NERO saying. The horde that would soon descend upon them outnumbered them by hundreds. A sea of grunts and screams and pale bodies and gnashing teeth.

She closed her eyes for a moment, the bile in her throat rising, threatening to spill.

Two years ago, she watched her then husband, through the throngs of terrified people, load her only child onto what she understood to be an adolescent transport. And now here they are, few in number, yet, armed to the teeth. She had thought them gone, just another branch of authority that had died along with everything else.

If they were alive then –

“Unless freaks have learned knife cuts, someone’s been here.” She was torn from her thoughts by the muffled voice, eyes snapping open and zeroing in on the man in the yellow suit bending down near her kill, examining the animal closely.

“Or is _still_ here. Be on your guard.”

She tensed as the yellow suit began to stalk towards the shack, gun thankfully pointed up towards the screaming beasts on the roof. The gasmask obscured the figures face, but she could tell by the shake in his hand that he was green. Her own fingers hovered over the cracked baseball bat at her side, daring to breathe.

She doubts she could move quicker than his trigger finger, but she could try.

“Come on man, leave those fuckers alone. Do a sweep. Remember that swarm we spotted flying over here?” the other in yellow hollered, raising his arms in annoyance, gun pointed towards the sky.

Ami signed in relief, closing her eyes for a moment as the man retreated, never turning his back on the shack until he reached the edge of the creek. She knows she should leave, no matter the questions that danced around her mind.

_You won’t get this chance again._

She shook her head as she stood, gathering up her belongs and sliding towards the back of the shack, careful to avoid the filth littering the floor in piles. She had spied a whole big enough to crawl through towards the back of the shack, something had tried to dig its way out or in; she wasn’t sure wanted to know what it was. Clutching the rotting and soiled wood from the side she pulled, the hole that was dug beneath it allowing it to give away easily. She held her breath as it creaked and groaned quietly, sparing a glance towards the window; all was still clear. She passed the cooler though first, setting in the grass, next came the baseball bat.

_Approaching them will earn you nothing but a bullet between the eyes._

She paused midway through the makeshift exit, glancing back at the yellow suits, catching a glimpse of a white suit making its way directly towards the shack; she was waring with herself. She had stopped wondering months after the outbreak, months after the comms had gone dark and the aid had stopped, and the earth had begun to take back the roads and monsters laid waste to humans and structures alike.

She _never_ stopped _thinking_ about Rachel.

She had lost a child, a part of herself, the only human being she had every _truly_ loved.

And now, the very people to see her alive last were right in front of her. She didn’t want closure, she wanted answers. Shaking her head, mind made up, Ami continued her escape. It was a tight squeeze, but she managed, gathering up the cooler and grasping the baseball bat she made her way through the thick undergrowth, back pressed firmly against the outcrop behind the shack, overlooking the creek.

If she could make it to the service trail, she would be out of their sights entirely.

She deftly made her way over the fallen trees, only slipping a few times on the moss and rotting wood. From the top of the outcrop could clearly see the creek, the chopper, the swaying trees and the scientists pouring over the shack below.

Curiosity grabbed Ami by the throat and refused to let her go.

A few minutes could mean all the difference in this world; nothing good ever came of gambling with them.

Crouching low again she set about watching them, just a few moments longer. The suits in the yellow continued on their prowl, sweeping their weapons from side to side, checking the brush and signaling to each other that all was clear.

“What are you doing here?” Ami mumbled to herself, squinting at the man in white. He wore a helmet that resembled an astronaut’s more than the traditional gas masks the others wore, a badge swung from a clip on his chest pocket. He made note of the lack of a weapon and the baggie he held in his hands. He had pulled it from the shack she had been in just moments prior.

Ami’s nose wrinkled, _Newt shit_. That’s what it was.

The man in white put in a case resembling the cooler she carried on her own person, though, she doubts his came from the tackle section at _Go Fish_. It looked professional; steel, locks, and way he handed it over the armed goon, carefully placing it in his hands told her freaker shit had either become a hot commodity or there was something much bigger happening.

 

For the first time in minutes, Ami’s attention was drawn from the hazmat suits below by another sound, this time coming from somewhere on her right, though muffled, she could make it out clear as day; it was a motorcycle, without a doubt in her mind this time. She flattened herself against the ground a bit more, peeking over the edge cautiously as the purring of the engine grew closer. She had trained her ear to the sound of it. Drifters, marauders, and rippers alike traveled by bike now, the small vehicles able to weave though the congested roads and partially blocked tunnels with ease.

Movement from the man in white, a wave of his hand and the subsequent falling back of those in yellow made Ami narrow her eyes as he began to trek alone along the face of the outcrop, looking behind himself every so often. She trailed his movements carefully, crawling to the other side of the small overhang, and making her way down the other side of the trail that cut above it, coming to a halt she carefully crouched behind a rotting pine; close enough to see them, but they wouldn’t see her.   

The purr of the engine silenced and the man in white, far beyond the tree line and out of sight of his counterparts, came to a halt. Squinting in the breeze that blew the nearly bare branches overhead her eyes followed in the direction he seemed to be looking in. She moved closer still, quietly like a mouse, halting abruptly as a figure stepped forward, the man’s walk slow and deliberate.

It was clearly a meeting of some sort; however odd it may have seemed. The NERO agent talked with his hands, signaling and pointing around himself angrily, yet, the man in front of him seemed unphased. Ami’s gut twisted, there was something about the figure that was familiar. She had seen her fair share of bikers since making the shit her permanent residence; they acted like they owned it, like they were a step ahead of the curve, and unlike the rest of the unlucky shits slaving away in settlements or patchwork raider camps they were free to ride the broken road whenever they pleased.

They had also been a thorn in Ami’s side for as long as she had been a thorn in theirs.

The man in white took a step back as the biker advanced towards him for a moment, stopping and pacing in a circle before pointing a finger at him again. That half turn gave enough time for Ami to spy the symbol on the back of his vest; a hellhound breaking though chains.

“Fuck.” She whispered to herself, disbelief playing at the edges of her voice.

To say Ami knew him would be a lie, rather, she knew _of_ him…or thought she did. She thought him and his friend long dead by now, though, the latter wasn’t trailing behind him so perhaps he had made the ultimate sacrifice.

_That was a good haul,_ she mused to herself, eyes still trained on him as he seemingly berated the NERO agent before him. Months ago, Ami had found herself stuck between a rock and a hard place; with no food, injuries that needed to be tended to, and the colder season moving in she needed all the supplies she could get. It was either that or she insert herself into a settlement, something that hadn’t worked out in the past for either parties.

She was a good manipulator; the otherwise ugly trait had never been lost on her. Baiting unsuspecting people into helping her or giving her things had been her forte before the world went to shit and it had only grown from a vice to an asset, one that had kept her alive as long far longer than she anticipated. Whoever the man was in front of her, had found himself the unfortunate victim of the old ‘I lost my group and I need help’ trick; though, she will admit, he was more willing to help than most she had used it on.

“How in the fuck are you still alive?” she wondered aloud, her voice nothing but a whisper in the wind.

The last time she saw him he was trying to pry a bear trap from around his ankle, his friend pointing a gun right between her eyes as she held their haul of supplies just out of reach, the undeniable sound of a swarm not far off, closing in on them with a speed they hadn’t anticipated. His friend had stared her down for what felt like eons, hand shaking and teeth grinding. But the man writhing in the trap below had told him to let her go, for what, she didn’t rightfully know. His friend made his choice, and because of that, she was able to live another year.

And surprisingly, so had _this_ guy.

“And what are you doing with _these_ guys?” her teeth worried her bottom lip gently, deep in thought.

Whatever the reason, it was clearly between the _two_ of them; something secretive.

NERO clearly wasn’t hurting for supplies. She scoffed at the very thought. How comical it would be for NERO, the very entity that had left so many for dead, coming to those that have learned to survive in The Shit for help.

Ami took one more look at the two; the NERO agent seemed to be taking is leave, gesturing towards the walkie in the man’s hands before turning on his heels and lumbering back the way he came, back towards his team and the safety of whatever base they were hiding at.

The drifter stood on his own for a moment or two longer, fiddling with the contraption in his hands, his fists clenching around it as if choking the life from it. With one final glance in the direction of the agents, he angrily turned on his heels, heading back the way he came. A few moments later the purr of the engine pierced the otherwise silent forest before it drifted into nothing but a whisper as he rode further from the creek.

Ami stayed rooted in her spot for a moment or two longer, mulling over the exchange before grabbing up the cooler and her bat, the whirl of the chopper in the distance now replaced by the screeching of swarmer and newt alike, no doubt feeding on what was to supposed to have been her meal for the coming days.  

_So, the drifter has unfinished business with the bastards._

_Well, so do I._

 

 

 

 


End file.
